


Fireworks

by Julian_Nesmith (PhoenixSong13)



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Cute, Holidays, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 13:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSong13/pseuds/Julian_Nesmith
Summary: Holiday traditions are the best, especially when you're in love





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to have this written sooner but I failed. I hope you enjoy it!

Fireworks

"Come on, Mike! You're gonna miss the fireworks!" Davy exclaimed, bouncing across the sand as he approached his boyfriend.

Mike glanced down at his watch. "Babe, it's only 9:30. They won't even start until 10pm. I'm making sure the grill is out." 

The Monkees had borrowed a barbecuer from the Parkers down the road as they were going out of town for the Fourth of July. The group had lucked out and gotten a decent gig a week before the holiday and they'd bought the stuff to make cheeseburgers, corn on the cob, chips, and soda, complete with a watermelon for after the fireworks.

Mike had been in charge of the barbecuing. He was the only one of the Monkees who knew how to use a grill and not leave the food resembling the fuel. So now he was making sure the fire was out because the pad was probably highly flammable and if experience had taught him anything, it was that if they didn't have bad luck, they would have no luck at all. Better to not leave it to chance.

Davy pouted a little and took Mike's hand in both of his own. He gazed up at the Texan with big doe eyes and Mike groaned inwardly. He couldn't resist that look for anything in the world.

"Just put the lid down and push it away from the house. Peter and Micky are already up on the balcony. Come on, love."

Mike looked up towards the balcony. Sure enough, he could see their other two bandmates up there. He frowned when he saw they both had sparklers in hand. Apparently, they had no qualms leaving it to chance.

Davy saw the unamused expression on Mike's face. The Brit reached up and took his lover's head between his hands and forced the Texan to focus on him. Their eyes met and Davy smiled sweetly, making Mike's stomach do happy cartwheels.

"Don't worry so much about everything. Relax, sweetheart. The world is not going to spin off its axis if you let yourself have fun and not be responsible for every little thing," the shorter male told him, stroking his thumbs along the soft hairs of Mike's sideburns.

"That is exactly what I'm afraid of. If I don't pay attention to everything, something bad is going to happen. Look at them. They're going to set the dad-blamed house on fire." His voice was solemn and resigned to this eventuality. 

Davy huffed out a breath and shook his head. "I poured some water on the deck a little while before they got up there. I'm not daft, I'm aware that those two are completely reckless.  
So I executed a preemptive strike."

Mike blinked. "That's… actually really smart."

"I do have my moments." Davy smiled wanly. "And if it gets out of hand, you can always throw a bucket of water on them. It will be okay. Don't be so upright, darling."

The Texan chuckled softly and pulled Davy close to him. He wasn't too worried about being seen by anyone as the crowds were further down the beach and the sun had almost totally set. He kissed the small Englishman gently, cupping his chin in one hand.

"I like the way you think." He pulled back and closed the lid of the grill. "Let me just move this back away from the house and then we'll head up."

The Brit smiled brightly and nodded. "Okay!"

Mike carefully wheeled the grill down the sand, a good distance from the structure as well as any plants. When he was comfortable with the new location, he turned and headed back to Davy, who took his hand and led him into the pad and up the spiral staircase. The Texan grabbed his guitar on the way through the living room so he could play during the finale, which had always been a tradition in the Nesmith family. 

They reached the balcony and Mike was a little confused when he saw Davy grab onto a ladder that was propped against the side of the building, heading up to the roof. The Englishman started up and Mike latched onto his arm.

"Where are you goin', tiny? We're already on the balcony."

Davy grinned at him. "I thought we could sit up on the roof and watch the fireworks. We'll have the best view up there."

The idea of being that high up sent a small shiver of uneasiness through the Texan. It kind of felt like courting fate to be that far off the ground. He could just imagine one of them losing their footing and falling to their deaths (or at the very least, to their broken legs and arms). 

"I dunno, babe…"

Micky spoke up to his right, sparkler in hand. "What's wrong, Mike? You scared of heights?" he teased, nudging the taller man with his shoulder. The action sent sparks everywhere.

Mike moved away a little. "Hey, watch it, shotgun!" He glanced up at Davy, who had that dang doe-eyed expression on his face again. "I'm not necessarily scared of heights. I'm just kind of against falling from them."

"We were higher up when we broke into the Remington Clinic to find Pete. You seemed okay then," Micky pointed out.

Mike stared at him. True, he had scaled that really tall building but it was for a pal who had been in danger. Really though, how could he tell his boyfriend he would do it for Peter but not for him? The couch was a very cold place to be even in a California July. Micky was a loudmouth pain in the butt sometimes.

"All right... all right. Let's get up there. If I fall and break my neck, someone please put 'Fearing the worst generally saves time, life, and limb' on my tombstone." There was a dry humor to his voice as he put the strap of his guitar over his shoulder to free up his hands to hold onto the ladder.

Davy snorted as he started his ascent again. "So dramatic. We'll be fine."

Mike started up behind him. "Yeah well… if YOU die, I'm putting 'Mike was right' on your tombstone. If we both die, they can put us side by side and we'll be leaving an inspirational message from the grave."

From below them, Peter said, "When I die, I want my tombstone to say, 'Please hold the pickles'."

Both Davy and Mike halted and looked down at the blond. Micky was also staring at him with a bewildered expression on his face. 

"Why the heck would you want THAT on your tombstone?" he asked, voicing the thought the three other Monkees currently shared.

"Well, I hate pickles. Everytime I get a sandwich or a burger from a restaurant, I ask them to hold the pickles', but I ALWAYS end up with them. So maybe if that's on my tombstone, some guy who makes sandwiches for a living might see it and think I died from eating pickles and he might think twice about ignoring such a request."

This statement was greeted with a stunned silence. The three men gaped at Peter, their jaws hanging open. Leave it to the blond to come up with something like that.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Mike said, shaking his head.

"I dunno, Mike. I think it's kind of a groovy idea," Micky replied slowly.

"You would," Davy told him. 

"No, think about it! Subliminal messages from the grave! Maybe mine should read, 'Don't drink the water'!"

"Only if we bury you in Mexico." Mike sometimes wondered what he was doing with his life and these moments did not help.

"Have you seen the water that comes out of our faucets? It's pretty gross looking." The curly-haired Monkee obviously thought he had made a valid point as a winning look graced his features.

But Mike was ready for that. "That's because Mr. Babbitt refuses to have the plumbing checked. That's from our own pipes."

Micky looked a little disappointed as his infallible argument proved to be, in fact, fallible. Peter, however, was not one to let his boyfriend be down for too long. He offered helpfully, "We could always put 'Don't drink the water at 1334 Beechwood'. Make it an urban legend like the woman who had a spider lay eggs in her cheek or the guy with a hook for a hand."

Micky's face brightened and he replied with newfound enthusiasm, "Hey, yeah! We could spread rumors that it turned me into a werewolf and I had to be taken out with a silver bullet! It would be fantastic!"

Mike groaned. One thing was for sure, those two were made for each other. They nurtured each other's crazy ideas and insane shenanigans. 

Peter and Micky were off and running now, excitedly discussing all sorts of things that could be put on gravestones. Mike felt a light tap from Davy's boot against his shoulder and looked up.

"C'mon. Let's leave these lunatics to their plotting." The Brit climbed up the rest of the way with the Texan following right behind.

"I might throw a bucket of water on them just for good measure," Mike said as he hoisted himself onto the roof.

Davy scooted against his side as he sat down. The smaller man laid his head against Mike's shoulder and sighed happily as he looked out over the beach.

From that vantage point, you could see all down the beach. There was a bonfire burning, kids were splashing around in the water and there were people with sparklers and small fireworks, setting them off. It was a big party and one that the whole neighborhood enjoyed.

"It's beautiful tonight," Davy sighed happily. "I can't wait for the fireworks!"

Mike looked down at his little love. "You really love fireworks, don't you? Are there any holidays in England like July 4th?"

"Well, we have Guy Fawkes Night. There's always lots of fireworks and festivities…"

"What's the occasion?"

Davy was thoughtful. "Back in 1605 on November 5th, Guy Fawkes and several others attempted to execute the Gunpowder Plot. They placed a bunch of explosives under the House of Lords in an attempt to assassinate King James I. They didn't succeed, Guy Fawkes was arrested, and now we celebrate his failure every November 5th. It's great fun."

The Texan's mouth quirked into an amused smile. "I've never heard of celebrating failure before. That's definitely a first."

The Englishman laughed and leaned his chin on Mike's shoulder. "Well, we didn't lose our King so maybe it's actually celebrating success. But I think it would be called King James Night if that was the case."

"Undoubtedly." Mike kissed Davy's forehead and then glanced down at his watch. "Any minute now. It's good and dark so those fireworks'll light up the night sky."

Not even a full five seconds later, the first fireworks shot up into the air, exploding in red and green sparkles with a loud bang. Davy's eyes widened with a childlike wonder that made Mike's heart skip a beat. The short Brit was always so excited and enthusiastic about everything and it was probably the most endearing trait. He sat a little bit forward as though to get even closer.

Mike began to strum the first few notes of the national anthem. He started to sing after a moment.

"O, say can you see  
By the dawn's early light  
What so proudly we held  
At the twilight's last gleaming?"

From the balcony, Peter's voice took over the next part, joining with Mike's playing.

"Whose broad stripes and bright stars  
Through the perilous fight  
O'er the ramparts we watched  
Were so gallantly streaming?"

Micky gladly took up the next verse. His higher pitch rang out through the night.

"And the rocket's red glare  
The bombs bursting in air  
Gave proof through the night  
That our flag was still there"

Davy finished up the song, the richness of his accent carrying the tune to the end.

"O say does that star-spangked  
Banner yet wave  
O'er the land of the free  
And the home of the brave."

Mike's fingers struck the final note and there came applause from the balcony. The Texan chuckled as Micky whooped and Peter whistled. Beside him, Davy grinned as Mike set the guitar down beside them.

"Fine playing, maestro. I reckon you could be in a band one day," he teased his boyfriend.

"Oh, d'ya reckon so? I'll keep it in mind if the neurosurgeon gig doesn't pan out," Mike replied with a grin of his own.

They watched the fireworks for a while in silence. Davy's hand had slipped into Mike's at some point and they had twined their fingers together. This was the first Independence Day they were celebrating as a couple and Mike found he rather enjoyed it instead of just sitting on his own. Being half of a whole was the best feeling in the world.

As the finale started, Mike went to pick up the guitar again, but Davy wouldn't let him. Instead, he turned Mike's face to him, cupping his cheeks between his warm hands, and brought their mouths together.

Mike wrapped his arm around Davy's waist, pulling him against his chest. The Brit slid a hand up Mike's back, coming up to the Texan's hair, tangling in the charcoal locks. The sweet slide of tongues elicited a quiet moan from Davy, whose eyes fluttered shut. 

Above them, the fireworks sparked and exploded in shimmers of red, green, blue, white, and purple. The scream and bang of each one was a cacophony of noise that drowned out everything else. 

Mike pressed Davy down against the shingles of the roof, exploring his mouth sweetly. The Englishman's hands rested against his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. The Texan sucked on his full lower lip, drawing it between both of his own.

After a long moment, Mike pulled back, breathing raggedly. Davy panted softly, the fireworks reflected in his dark, brown eyes. He reached up and strokes Mike's cheek.

"I love you, honey child. So much," Mike said softly, turning his head and kissing Davy's palm.

Davy smiled beautifully. "I love you too, darling… You know, every day is the Fourth of July with you…"

The taller man blinked. "Oh, really? What makes you say that?"

"I see fireworks whenever you kiss me."

Despite the fact that was the corniest line, and the fact Mike more expected something like that from Micky, the Texan couldn't help but grin. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Davy's in a comparatively chaste kiss from the one before.

"Happy Independence Day, angel," he said against Davy's lips.

"Happy Independence Day, sweetheart. I'm glad I get to spend it with you…"

As the firework display came to a finish, Mike and Davy continued to kiss in an unrushed, lazy fashion. For both men, the closeness was the most important, special part of it all. Both of them always liked to be touching in some way, both very much about the contact between them.

After a while, Mike decided it was time to head inside for some better… celebratory activities. As they descended the ladder to the now empty balcony (Micky and Peter must have had a similar thought process), the Texan realized something. He hadn't played his guitar during the finale. Even last year when he hadn't been able to go back to Texas for the holiday, he had still played. 

He had traded that activity for another, one that was the proof he was no longer a single man. His family tradition had taken a backseat to the man he loved. 

And honestly, he was more than happy to start a new one, as long as he was with Davy. He slid his hand around the Brit's, grinning down at him sexily.

"You look like the cat that got the cream," Davy said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

Mike leaned in and murmured in Davy's ear, "Oh, I plan to get the cream sometime tonight… How's about we go see if we can make some fireworks of our own, hmm?"

"I thought you'd never ask, love."

As Mike shut the doors against the outside world, he knew he was a lucky man indeed. And there was always room for new traditions.

The End


End file.
